Too Long
by Alphabet Pie
Summary: Vexen and Marluxia, once best friends - and lovers - meet again. Nothing much is amounted to. Old fic; one shot. 411.


Vexen, a true beauty with flawless skin and long, pale blonde hair, waved his girlfriend goodbye as she walked off down down the boulevard. He sighed, smiling quietly at the sunset over the beach just metres from where he stood. Nothing in the world could be better. He couldn't possibly wish for anything more.

A small voice, obviously not used to such a disposition, broke the silence.

"... Vexen?" The subject turned around, his hair swinging in the thoughtful breeze. It always used to swing that way, the owner of the small voice quietly lamented.

"Marluxia? Is that you?" Vexen exclaimed, staring at the man who now stood before him.

"It's good to see you again," Marluxia said, nodding slightly (or was it perhaps the breeze?) making his hair - now shorter, layered and _pink_ - swing slightly around his shoulders. There was a pause as Vexen glanced discretely back at where his girlfriend had left, hopes and dreams suddenly shattering. Why here, why now? When everything was so perfect?

"Yeah," Vexen said, voice ever so slightly strained. "And you," He studiously examined the form in front of him. Marluxia was very different now. No longer the slim, innocent teen - he'd obviously been working out and had the scars on his tanned, bare arms had proof of many fights. He didn't fit in here, in the nice, quiet part of town with his black tracksuit bottoms and loose sleeveless shirt, or his muddy converse. He had also begun collecting piercings - his right ear and eyebrow pierced and both ears with a variety of studs. His hair, no more long, brown or tied in a ponytail, had presumably been dyed pink for a joke and just stuck. His eyes remained the same shimmering crystal blue.

"You're staring at me," Marluxia said, like he was trying to sound as if it was the most perfectly normal thing in the world. He needed to break the ice. Vexen looked away, but didn't reply for a long time.

"What happened to you?" He asked finally.

"You know what social care does to you," A hint of sadness in the young man's voice?

"But you had a really nice social worker. She wouldn't have let this happen to you,"

"She... She died," Marluxia said. "What about you? A girlfriend and everything!" Vexen tried not to stare at his former friend - and lover.

"I've moved on, Marluxia." Even saying his name hurt now. "I'm not who I used to be."

"You're just as much a prude," Marluxia huffed, looking away. Personality wise, Vexen mulled, he'd barely changed at all.

He couldn't help it then. He hugged his friend, feeling, with a tingle of nostalgia, those same hands happily curling across his back as Marluxia returned the embrace. They both rested their heads on each other's shoulders.

"It's been too long," Vexen whispered as Marluxia blissfully snuggled into his hair. "Far too long,"

***

The next day, everything all went wrong. Vexen woke up as usual, in his small, neat apartment. As usual, he needed his daily dose of caffeine in the form of coffee before his brain agreed to comply to any of his wishes. As was perfectly normal, he took the bus to work and greeted his girlfriend, the secretary, with a polite "morning," and a slight nod. As was also usual, he was about to go up to the second floor where his office was when she stopped him, startling the academic.

"I think you've got some explaining to do, Vexen." She said, obviously struggling to keep her voice neutral. "Who is she?"

Vexen blinked at her in confusion. "Who?" He asked, racking his brains for another girl he knew that she didn't.

"The one you were hugging yesterday, just after I left!" She yelled. Vexen almost laughed at that.

"Marluxia? He's just a childhood friend," He explained. "I hadn't seen him in years,"

The woman relaxed a little, letting him go. Before the lift managed to shut however, she spoke to him again.

"'Just' friends don't hug each other that way,"

Vexen spent most of the day pondering her words. She later went home, claiming to feel ill, so he didn't see her again that day, which was probably for the best in the long run. But now everything had started - and was threatening to continue - crumbling in his hands. It was true, Marluxia and Vexen were more than just friends. That was how it had been, but Vexen had moved on... or at least he thought he had. Inside him, nostalgia was mixing with those same feelings from years ago, making him feel giddy with confusion. That first touch - well, grab - the months of being so close, indescribably close; and then everything had fallen apart with the strange being known as Marluxia right in the middle.

She rang him late in the afternoon, when he was almost finished with work.

***

Marluxia did precious little that day, as he did most days, whiling away the time sleeping, maybe practising fighting or sometimes going out to meet friends. Legitimate work was notoriously difficult to come by in the slums, as the shady, poor part of town was known. Even less legal employment was reserved for only the best, and anyone with pink hair and a disposition towards flowers, strong as they may be, had precious little chance of ever being chosen. Although Marluxia had not been unable to create quite a reputation in this area; he wasn't just another beefed up idiot and rightly deserved the Graceful Assassin as his title. Someone rapped impatiently on the door to his two-roomed apartment. He got out of bed slowly, catlike taking his time. He didn't bother to try and get properly dressed.

"What." He said, feeling lazy and in no mood to be kind and polite; he rarely was to anyone except an elite few - the thought reminded him fondly of a certain blonde-haired friend. In front of him was a small, rather pathetic looking man in a smart buisiness suit, hair gelled back making him look bald and silly.

"Can I find the Graceful Assassin here?" He asked quietly, as if terrified of the imposing man in front of him. Marluxia couldn't help but grin.

"Come in," He said, holding the door open as the mousey man ducked under his arm into the main room. The door, Marluxia made sure, was shut and locked with a satisfying click. The visitor looked helplessly around the messy apartment for a place to sit, and eventually chose to perch hesitantly on the side of the bed.

"So," Marluxia said once he too was settled, this time on his desk. "You require my talents for something?" The man nodded.

"I need someone... taken care of,"

"That's what I do. Care for a demonstration?" Marluxia asked, feeling the familiar curves of his favourite weapon form in his hand as he carelessly summoned it. The man jumped almost a full foot up in the air, making the assassin grin. He loved scaring the hell out of people. "Only joking," He said, as it obviously needed explaining, as he set down the scythe. "What's your name and who do you want dead?" The man flinched again at his blatant wording, still on edge from Marluxia's trick.

"I am Alexander Morchoren, the owner of a rich and successful company," He said. "The name of which is not important,"

"An owner of a rivaling company? You are the devil, aren't you,"

"No, it's not to do with that. Uh. My wife has been unfaithful to me recently," Morchoren admitted. "The man she's been seeing..."

"How much are you willing to pay? My services do not come cheap." The man shifted, toying with an expensive-looking diamond ring. Eventually, he opened up his suitcase. How cliché, Marluxia thought, inspecting the packs of notes inside.

"One million pounds,"

Marluxia grinned. Enough, at least, to get him out of this dump.

"Done."

Marluxia met Vexen again when the latter was about halfway home from work.

"Sorry I ran off so quick yesterday," Marluxia apologised. "I had some stuff to do,"

"I was going to ask, actually. What do you do for work around here?"

"Heh, you know how posh you talk now? And for the question, not much. A few odd jobs here and there, nothing much special. You do research for some company, right?"

Vexen laughed. "Yeah, I also meant to tell you that my girlfriend broke up with me, thanks to you,"

Marluxia stared.

"Oh, geez, I am so sorry," He said, obviously not. "I'll remember that next time you hug me,"

"Really, it's ok. I think she was going off with another man anyway."

"So..." Marluxia said, casually placing his hands behind his head. They both continued to walk through the streets. "I need to cure your poshness. Can I come over tonight?"

"It's not a disease, Marluxia." Vexen chided. "Besides, I have no need or desire to be 'cured',"

"See? Just listen to yourself," The pink-haired man laughed, putting on a fake posh accent. Vexen understandably whacked him around the head, sending messy hair swinging around Marluxia's face.

"Nice place," Marluxia commented at Vexen's neat apartment as they both walked in. He studied the older man's shoes, placed neatly just inside the hall, before kicking off his own muddy converse and dumping them down. They looked like they shouldn't have been there. "Tea?" Vexen called from the kitchen as Marluxia wandered about the hallway, looking at the various ornaments placed on the shelves and paintings hanging up on the walls. He called back a positive reply, before catching up with Vexen. He peered over the scientist's shoulder as he went about the business of making tea, pondering.

"Something you want to say?" Vexen asked as he saw Marluxia's thoughtful expression. The other man merely wrapped his arms around Vexen, pressing his body up against the blonde's back. Vexen felt himself blushing involuntarily, but even so he put his hands on the other man's hips, stroking them gently. Marluxia began to rock in time with him.

"I love you," He murmured. "I never stopped loving you,"

Vexen mumbled quietly. "I guess I never did either,"

----

AN:

_Old, old fic that I wrote just as I was entering the 411 fandom. There's quite a lot more here than in the DA version, none of which really amounts to anything at all._


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